


do not go gentle into that good night

by tenacioussurrender



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: :(, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, Miscommunication, Number Five | The Boy Doesn't Get A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy is Emotionally Constipated, Number Five | The Boy-centric, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenacioussurrender/pseuds/tenacioussurrender
Summary: "I know what it’s like to love dangerous people. Difference is...they love me back.”When Diego had made his love profession, he’d looked at everyone, everyone but Five.2x10 Canon Divergence
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone
Comments: 99
Kudos: 415
Collections: Creatures and Gods and Magicals Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This scene hurt my feelings in canon so I figured why not make it a million times worse??
> 
> Warning for Main Character Death.

**_“Do not go gentle into that good night,_ **

**_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_ **

**_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ **

**_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_ **

**_Because their words had forked no lightning they_ **

**_Do not go gentle into that good night._ **

**_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_ **

**_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_ **

**_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ **

**_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_ **

**_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_ **

**_Do not go gentle into that good night._ **

**_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_ **

**_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_ **

**_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ **

**_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_ **

**_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._ **

**_Do not go gentle into that good night._ **

**_Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”_ **

**_-Dylan Thomas_ **

  
  


It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

_"I know what it’s like to love dangerous people. Difference is...they love me back.”_ Diego had said.

He’d looked fondly at each of the siblings, they all got their turns, everyone but Five. He’d stepped to the side, around Lila, had expected Diego’s eyes to finally fall on his own. But, embarrassingly, he’d been proven wrong. He was stumped. Wholly stumped. 

He likes to think that he’s a rather observant individual, that not much can get past him undetected. And yet...he’d missed this entirely. He’d thought for sure that he and Diego had bonded at least a little. The conversation they’d had when they broke into Reginald’s building - it’d meant something to him. But clearly, there was a misstep somewhere. Evidently there was a snag, a wound he’d left to fester. His mind races, the conversation between Diego and Lila falling into the background. Where, when did it happen?

Even more embarrassing than his expectations of Diego affording him a loving glance, is his realization that there are too many moments for him to settle on just one. 

Maybe it had been the dinner, he hadn’t stood up for him like he should have. Or perhaps the final straw was the stabbing joke. Although, he presumes, it’s far more likely that his brother simply held on to when he’d left him at the psychiatric hospital. It’d be fair if he hated him for that, in fact Five hates himself for that, despite the necessity of it in the moment. Perhaps Diego faulted him for dropping them in Dallas in the first place, his other siblings distinctly blamed him for that. He could probably go back even further, maybe it’d been Patch. Maybe it was him leaving when they were thirteen. 

Five’s so deeply entangled in his many familial betrayals to notice that The Handler has appeared in the barn. Bullets explode from her gun just as he’d felt tendrils of regret weave themselves through his organs. He was shot around five times, if his count is right. Twice in the stomach, once in the chest, once in the arm, once in the leg. Clearly The Handler’s shot remains as shitty as it’d always been. But then again, by the silence of the barn, the lack of wheezing breaths other than his own, he considers that maybe her shot wasn’t quite as bad as he’d first suspected.

As Five lays on the ground, the realization blooms in his head. He can’t move but he doesn’t need to to know his siblings are dead, to know he’s once again the last one living. He knows it like he now knows they’d likely died hating him or thinking he hated them. He’d thought they knew, that he didn’t have to say the words, for them to know that he loved them, that every waking moment of his life was dedicated to saving theirs. He’d been sure that it was obvious, that him scraping and clawing his way through decades in the apocalypse to get back to them, that his years in the Commission proved it. But he’d never said the words and his siblings were simple creatures, maybe actions mean less to them. His cockiness had always pissed them off, even when they were children. Maybe they’d never liked him, maybe they’d been happy when he left, disappointed when he returned. In fact, he supposes, that could explain why no one had seemed particularly excited to see him, he hadn’t even been offered a hug. He would have refused it anyway, most likely, but it makes sense. 

_“I know what it’s like to love dangerous people. Difference is...they love me back.”_

The Handler is suddenly in his view, standing above him with her gun pointed at him. He feels stupid, everything clicking in his head. He would have never fit back into the family, he’d been gone far too long, they’d grown without him, they’d moved on without him, they’d survived years without him. And it’s quite the sad thought that he survived _for_ them, he survived for people who survived _in spite of_ him. But that’s his big flaw isn’t it? The Handler knows it, everyone but his siblings know it, that he’d do anything for them, that he loves them more than anything. He’d sell his soul, and he had, to protect their existence.

His mind returns to the conversation with Reginald. _Seconds_ is whispered in his head and he focuses. Despite the pain, the exhaustion, he focuses. Because he didn’t scrape and claw and kill his way back to his siblings, just for them to die once again. It doesn’t matter how they feel about him, he doesn’t need happy, never did. He needs them alive, he needs them to survive, because otherwise it was all for nothing. His humanity had been ripped away for nothing, he’d become a monster for nothing. 

Time reverses before his eyes. It’d be beautiful if it wasn’t so excruciating. His siblings rise from the ground like puppets. Bullets fly backwards back into the Handler’s gun as she returns to the barn entrance. He feels tears prickle at his eyes, the pain stealing away any control he has over his body. His powers fade as The Handler disappears backwards away from the building. He stands on shaky legs, can hear Diego talking to Lila behind him. 

“We could be your family if you’d let us.”

It’s ironic, Five thinks, that Diego wants Lila in the family but not him. He must be truly terrible for Diego to want to take another killer in place of him, sure she’s not an assassin and likely killed far less than him. But she manipulated and kidnapped and drugged Diego. How...how can he love her and not him? He focuses on The Handler’s approach rather than the painful thoughts plaguing him. He’s trembling, can feel blood trickling down his arm, can taste it on his tongue, the sharp metallic familiar and yet startling all the same. She arrives as expected and he yanks the gun from her hands, pointing it at her. He can feel his siblings eyes on them, can hear their murmurs. He shoots her, his final act. She drops to the ground, bullet holes in all the places she should have shot him. But the universe is funny in that way, isn’t it? Drawing out his life for what? He doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter because the gun is dropping from his hands and his knees slam against the ground. He can hear gasps, can feel his siblings hovering. 

He chokes out something between a sob and a sigh. It’s over. This isn’t like before, isn’t like shrapnel lodged in his side, isn’t like the aftermath of a stray dog attack in the apocalypse, this is the real deal. He can feel it, can feel himself fading fast. But it’s okay, he thinks, as he feels himself being lowered fully to the ground. Diego’s face appears above him, brows scrunched as he stutters something. Five blinks past him, past the roof of the barn, to the stars he hopes are hanging in the sky. He’s not sure if it’s even dark outside, but he’d like to imagine dying under the stars. It’s a fitting end, the type of end he’d expected in the apocalypse. But this time, he can feel assured that his siblings are alive, there’s hundreds of briefcases on the grass outside, and they’re together. 

He feels something drop on his face. He languidly forces his eyes to focus, his brother’s mouth forming his name, tears falling down his face. _Hmm,_ he thinks, _how strange._

He can’t move his neck, but he can hear the others around him, can hear crying and mumbles of his name. 

It’s peculiar. Is it some sort of show, to make him feel better as he dies? Should he play into it and finally tell them the three little words that have plagued him? Make sure they know, since clearly his actions weren’t enough. He opens his mouth, but rather than words, all that flows is blood. He can feel gurgling at the back of his throat as he attempts to choke up the things he wants to say, the things that had always lodged themselves deep within him, the things that would leave him aching at night. 

“I-I’m…” He coughs, the sound wet and harsh. “...sorry.”

It’s not what he’d wanted to say, but he supposes it’s important all the same. His siblings are all crowded above him now, their eyes all wide and terrified. They probably aren’t sure what to do now, he knows how scary it is to be stuck somewhere you don’t recognize. But, they’re lucky, they have each other.

“B-b...briefc-case.” He mumbles, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He can hear an echo of his name followed by a question. _Why is he sorry?_ They wonder. He figures it must be obvious, he moves to voice it, but his mouth doesn’t comply. He gulps the taste of blood down, tries to clear his throat, to make way so he can finally say it. He finds his eyes rolling into the back of his head, can feel his mind slowing its constant rumbling of thoughts. There’s the ghost of hands touching him, gentle caresses that scorch him. 

He wants to say it, they deserve it. His head rolls to the side, hay brushing against his face. He blinks up at his siblings and his mouth opens, blood drooling past his lips. He sputters, trying desperately to get the three measly words to escape him. Can feel the pressure of them in his chest. As his fingers twitch, trying to find some sort of purchase, something to distract him from the all consuming thought that he’s about to die, he feels a hand in his own. 

He’s lucky, he thinks, to not die alone. 

It’s his final thought as his mind falls blank and his jaw goes slack. His fingers loosen, their bloody grip nonexistent. He releases a sigh, his eyes shuddering. The last thing he sees is Diego sobbing, his mouth forming three measly words. Three tiny words that Five had secretly, desperately wanted to hear more than anything in the world. His lip twitches with the shadow of a smile as he takes his last tremble of a breath.


	2. Chapter 2

Diego distinctly remembers when he’d first heard it. 

He’d been sitting at Eudora’s desk, getting his second lecture for the day. He’d been caught stopping a home invasion, it’d been late at night. Beaman had walked by with a raised brow and had said with incredible conviction, “Do not go gentle into that good night, my friend.”

Diego had let it roll right off his shoulders, had chalked it up to Beaman being weird, he’d always been poetic in a strange sort of way. But, for some reason, the words had stuck with him. He’d been laying in his bed later that night, the boiler room creaking and aching around him. The words had flowed from his mouth and into the air as he’d repeated them. They’d stuck on his tongue like the phantom taste of something sweet. He’d fallen asleep with the words permeating his thoughts. 

He’s not a poetic man, never had been, and yet, something about the words, something about the way Beaman had said them riled him. He _needed_ to know what they meant, craved to understand their meaning. He’d gone to the library and searched the words online. A full poem had painted itself on the screen and he’d greedily read it. 

He’d sat back, staring at the words, rolling them around in his head. He thinks his brain must have been making a halting grinding noise, smoke must have been rolling out of his ears, because the woman next to him asked if he needed help. He asked her to explain it to him, if he was missing something. She told him he’d been thinking too deeply, that it simply meant to not willingly give into death, to fight for life. He rolled his eyes at the thought that Beaman had been chastising him for his recklessness. 

He’d ended up back at the library a day later, jotting the whole thing down. He’d hung it on the wall of his room at the gym, had read it each night. 

Looking down horrified at his brother’s condition, he wants to say it. 

They’d been okay moments before. They’d been more than okay, he’d basically professed his love for his siblings, something he’d struggled with for so long. He’d looked at each of them.

"I know what it’s like to love dangerous people. Difference is...they love me back.”

He’d found himself hesitating at Five, found his eyes drawn back to Lila instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother or thought his brother didn’t love him, but he could recognize that he’d been rather difficult these past few days. He knew the kind of stress he’d added to Five’s plate, knew how Five felt about Lila. So, he didn’t look at Five, couldn’t bare his stare of disapproval, couldn’t bare his disappointment. He knows Lila manipulated him, knows she’d drugged and kidnapped him and yet he loves her. Love has always been his weakness and as he noticed the drop of shoulders behind Lila, he realized he’s not so different from Five in that aspect. Clearly, he’d disappointed his brother regardless. But, they have time now, Lila’s changing he can tell. He’ll have time to say it again later when they’re all back home and safe. 

Suddenly Five had disappeared from his view, without his signature blue haze. Diego twisted, blinking at the entrance of the barn. Five had a gun trained on The Handler. When had she shown up? He’d heard a gasp, just as his eyes had caught on the source. Three bullet holes in the back of Five’s jacket. He didn’t get the chance to breathe, much less move, before Five shot the gun. The Handler dropped, Lila disappeared. But that didn’t matter because Five was falling to the ground, the gun slipping from his hands. 

There’s a lot of blood and something’s not right, Diego missed something. Klaus is lowering their brother to the ground, laying him on his back. There’s a hiss of a painful breath, a sharp exhale. Someone’s already crying and at the taste of salt on his lip, he realizes it’s him. He drops to the ground, his eyes furiously scan his brother’s body. He’d been shot five times if his count is right. His hands hover, unsure of what to do. He stutters out a question of what happened. His siblings are gathered around, crying and muttering Five’s name. Diego watches as green eyes flit somewhere far past him. He repeats his earlier question, begging Five to tell him what happened, begging him to tell him what he can do to fix this. 

“Time travel, Five.” Luther pleads, but Diego thinks it doesn't quite work that way. 

He can hear Klaus praying, hadn’t thought he was a particularly spiritual person. 

Diego stares down at his brother’s far away expression, calls his name, tears dropping from his face to Five’s. His brother’s eyes finally return to him, his eyebrows furrowing as if he’s confused. He opens his mouth to say something. Blood dribbles down his chin. 

“I-I’m…” He coughs, wet and harsh. “...sorry.”

Diego cringes at the sound as he and his siblings draw closer. 

“B-b...briefc-case.” Five mutters, as if that’s something that’s even crossed the siblings’ minds. 

“Why is he sorry?” Allison asks. 

“Five, don’t say that.” Vanya sobs. 

“Get up, Five!” Luther shouts, denial slithering through his words. 

Klaus mumbles something under his breath, it sounds like an appeal for God to not take another one of his siblings. 

Diego wants to say it, it's resting at the tip of his tongue.

_Do not go gentle into that good night._

He wants to say it so that Five will roll his eyes, will make fun of him, will call him an idiot. Diego would take anything over the faraway stare.

But, he realizes as an ache settles in his chest, Five isn't going gentle. Nothing about Five has ever been gentle. He's scraped and clawed and killed to get back to them. He survived an apocalypse. In spite of a million hardships, he pulled through, he came through for them. Five would never go gentle, he would never willingly lay down the fight. That thought brings a particularly sharp sob out from somewhere deep in Diego’s chest. This is Five's last act of rebellion, his last spit in the face of all things gentle. 

Something had happened and he's once again given his all to rescue them. 

So Diego doesn't tell him to stay, doesn't beg him to not give in, because he knows his brother. He knows him like he knows that Five deserves to hear it, he deserves to know they love him. He deserves to know a lot of things, but there isn't a lot of time. He's fading fast, his head rolling to the side, blood dribbling down. Green eyes flicker up. His breathing is sharp and panicked as he desperately tries to say something. He sputters, blood pooling in his mouth. His fingers twitch at his chest, searching for something. Allison grabs his hand. Diego can feel their siblings crowding around, can feel them all collectively holding their breath.

"We love you." Diego says without leaving room for interpretation, he says it like it’s the last words he’ll ever utter. 

A small smile curls at blood encrusted lips, the only indication that Five had heard him. It dissipates as quickly as it had arrived, his jaw goes slack. His hand slips from Allison's, dropping to the ground, entangling in the hay. His eyes fall shut. His breathing stills. 

The siblings remain with him through the night. They carry him out to the grass so he can rest under the stars. Vanya holds him in her arms. Klaus promises that he hasn’t seen him, that he must have passed on. It’s a small comfort.

The crying subsides after a while and they all find themselves staring up at the sky instead. They wonder if this is how Five felt when he'd found them in the wake of the apocalypse. If he too begged the Moon for answers, begged the stars for a second chance to say all the things left unsaid. 

The sky is endless, a boundless map of bright creations blinking through the darkness of night. As their eyes flicker between celestial beings, they realize Five was a star in his own right, how he too had always _raged against the dying of light_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really decided to go all out with the poem mentions, huh? I'm not as satisfied with this as I was with the first part but hopefully it satiated some of your desires for another pov?? Thank you all for your comments and kudos, very appreciated!!


End file.
